The Solstice and the Star—now appearing in our winter sky, bringing with it longer days and more light.
This is another photo taken in my old backyard in Manitou, Colorado. Outstanding, I’d say. The photo of the Kissing Camels and the Jupiter/Saturn conjunction.
And so it is that we come to the celebration of the Winter Days and the Christmastide. May we all have Joy and Happiness, cold days wrapped in warmth and love.
Happy Birthday to our dear brother Beethoven! He of the absolute Divine.
Did you know that most if not many of the great composers were born in the cold months? November—January, and even February. What a beautiful time to be born. Those days when the Pagan and the Christian combine, when the thin time meets the ringing of the bells, when music begets genius.
YoYo Ma joined in to the Happy birthday for Beethoven. Honored to join thousands of people from over 70 countries in a #GlobalOdeToJoy. Explore the project’s playlist: https://bit.ly/3ntAfb5.
The season of Joy is welcomed by the Ode to Joy.
“I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.” T.S. Eliot
“It is not I who create myself, rather I happen to myself.” ~Carl Jung, CW11, Para 391. Posted by Psyche’s Call with Donna May.~~I love this…”…I happen to myself.” Do we not, indeed?
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I spent the morning outside digging out the little trees planted last year and now overwhelmed—packed under—by snow. The little things had to be dug out and released from their prisons of ice and blocks of snow. I had thought they would escape on their own and so had waited until I no longer could. Poor babies. At least now they should be happy in the winterscape around them.
The dog thought this was all a grand plan as she ran around me and through the piles of snow. What better than to run through snowdrifts and plunge through the crusted berms? Great stuff, this world. That’s what she says. The cat says it’s best to watch from the bedside window, ensconced in quilts and pillows.
I take both under advisement.
And oh my. I’m so far behind in everything that responding now would make me early for next year. (Too late for late this year.) OK, a slight exaggeration but not much. Though given to hyperbole, it really is too late to say Happy Thanksgiving.
So for now, some notes in passing, regardless of the time of year.
Kurt Vonnegut was born in November of 1922, on the 11th. His works inspired my generation, more so than the beatniks. Breakfast of Champions was a bible of sorts, coursework for creativity and radicalism. He was one of the many who entertained the life and learning in Iowa City while it swarmed with writers and hippies and those of us who thought we could change the world.
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The kid was here for Thanksgiving and our birthdays which made the days warm with love.
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We’ve had a grand snowstorm, leaving us covered with at least two feet of snow. It has made the nights bright with the light reflected and held in its folds. During the day the snow sparkles with little diamonds strewn about by magic. Many of the places here have Christmas lights and decorations adding to the feelings of joyous-festive days.
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For now then, this is the way things are while I go about attempting to catch up on other corners of my world. Wishing us all snow and sunshine, things that whish and cause us wonder.
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